The Trophy
by Krin
Summary: [Discontinued] AU. Sequel to Cilley, started before J3 came out. Jak's search for his parents. Yeah, super AU. Bleah. Contains references to Taetra Mussala.
1. Annual Men's 200 Standard Ring Challenge

**2010 Update: This fic has been discontinued because it strays too far from canon [it was written before the latter Jak games came out and revealed his ancestry]. This is the sequel to "Cilley." If you haven't read that one, this one will make little to no sense. It has also been edited to fix punctuation issues. **

**This fic takes place between the end of game 2 and the beginning of game 3. Enjoy!**

* * *

The sun beat down on the crowd, thousands of slummers and upper towners standing shoulder-to-shoulder. This was the one day a year they dared mix- albeit with caution. They clogged the streets and hung out building windows, screaming and waving colored flags. Posters of the ten lauded racers were everywhere, each man grinning and wearing his own color. The biggest banner, stretched above the starting line, read, 'Annual Men's 200 Standard Ring Challenge.'

"Oh man!" Daxter gripped Jak's shoulder tightly. "This is it!"

Jak leaned forward in the zoomer seat, grinning. "Look at all those blue flags!"

"How come we're never in the first row?"

"I dunno, Dax," Jak said. "But they could put us dead last and we'd still beat their asses."

"All right!" Daxter waved to Tess and Kiera. Tess had sewn an orange stripe through her blue flag.

"All racers begin at the gunshot." Torn adjusted the megaphone's volume. "All participants must hit every accelerator ring, or he's out. And don't even _try_ any of those 'offensive maneuvers.' I'm watching you." He held his gun up in the air. "Now get outta here!"

BANG!

The crowd roared. Jak and the other nine racers exploded down the street, massive clouds of dust rising in their wake. "Hey! Watch it!" The racers bunched together, hugging the turns. The zoomer was bashed from side to side. Jak grit his teeth and forced his way to the front. "First accelerator ring, yeah!" shouted Daxter. The zoomer whined and shot ahead of the rest. A buzzer sounded from behind them; someone had missed the ring. Everyone holding a yellow flag groaned.

"Where's the next one?" screamed Jak. Closing in fast was a fork in the streets.

Daxter tapped the electronic map. "The ring hasn't showed up ye- right! Go right!"

Jak threw his body into the turn, nearly crashing them into a building. "Whoa!" The next accelerator ring was much closer than he had thought. The zoomer shuddered.

"Up! Go up!" Daxter grabbed Jak's ears. The island in the middle of the street was dangerously close. "Aaahhh! Jak! _Up!_"

Jak grunted and yanked on the handles. The zoomer shot straight up, grazed the top of the island, and hit another accelerator ring.

Unfortunately, the zoomer was still going up when it hit it.

"AAHHH! Jak! Down!"

"Where?!"

Daxter strained his neck against the zoomer's skyward momentum and glanced at the map. "Right! But watch out for the fountains!" With dismay, he watched them fall from first place to forth.

Jak squeezed the handles and pushed. The zoomer hovered for a split second, then spun into a nose dive. Daxter shrieked and Jak leaned right. They missed the concrete fountain but flew through the spray. Jak rubbed his eyes hastily and looked ahead. "I take it we go left?"

"Um." Daxter shivered as the fast air whipped through his wet fur. "Yeah!"

"What's that noise?"

A sputtering zoomer inched up behind them. "No way!" said Jak. He strained forward. "C'mon, zoomer!"

They hit the next ring and took a sharp left. The man behind them slammed into the wall.

"Ouch." Jak grinned. "Whoa!" He swerved to the right as a group of red flag waving fans illegally swarmed the race track. "Get out of the friggin' way!"

Their angry shouts were lost around the next bend. "How're we doing on time, Dax?"

The ottsel glanced at the clock. "Surprisingly good, seein' as how we flew a million standards into the air!"

"Oh, it wasn't a _million_." Jak tore his eyes away from the streets to check on the other racers' status. "Hey! We're second!"

"_Right!_" Daxter tugged Jak's ears to the right, screaming hysterically. Jak winced. They scraped through the next accelerator ring, barely hitting its edge. "Would you keep your eyes on the _road?!"_

Jak grinned and leaned forward so far his nose almost touched his white knuckles. "Crouch down, Dax! Air resistance!"

"Aaaaa!" The increased speed made it difficult to breathe, let alone move. "It's ripping my fur off!" Daxter squeezed his eyes shut and dug his nails into Jak's shoulders. "Right!"

Jak grimaced at the pain in his back and leaned right. "I see him!" The first place zoomer was so close.

"There's only one ring left!"

"C'mon! _C'mon!"_ Jak kicked the sides of the zoomer. "Dax! Get _down!_"

"Yeearrrrgghhhh!" Daxter bent his arms, forcing the muscles to contract. "Can't...!"

"C'mon!"

Daxter's biceps twitched and suddenly his face slammed into Jak's back. "Ow."

The zoomer, having lost the majority of its furry surface area, shot forward again. "Ha _ha!_" Jak screamed.

Daxter shut his eyes and held on for dear life. The zoomer shattered the last ring. Daxter opened one eye just in time to see the black and white checkered ground scream by.

"YEAH!" Jak slammed on the reverse and Daxter was nearly flung off as the zoomer spun wildly. "We did it, Dax! _We did it!"_ He threw his arms up and screamed.

"Aaaaaannnnnd the winner of the Annual Men's 200 Standard Ring Challenge, shattering the old record by nearly thirty seconds, is Jak!"

"Hey! What about me?!" Daxter's retort was lost as the crowd erupted. Several hundred people swarmed into the streets. Krimzon Guards tried to push them back, but they enveloped the first place winner.

"Woo yeah! _Yeah!"_


	2. The Trophy

Jak sat back  
Back sat Jak  
Splat went Jak  
Splat, Jak, splat  
Jak went splat  
and his body  
Went back

Jak could barely contain his snickering as he crumpled the paper in his fist. The little death threat was complete with stick figures of him falling off a building and exploding, or was he being shot with a Peace Maker? It was hard to tell. He shook his head. "Good thing these morons are barely literate. I'll file it with the others." He threw the ball of paper into a corner. It hit an already substantial pile of death threats and caused a small avalanche. "Best way to start the morning ever."

He glanced out the open window and groaned. Thermals rose between the buildings across the street, warping his view of the panting slummers below. Jak wiped his forehead. Record temperatures had scorched the city for a week, to everyone's dismay. Ashelin had ordered a good majority of the KG to begin demolishing the oldest, slummiest part of the slums, and Jak wasn't excluded. "Wonder if Dax got that air conditioning at the Ottsel yet," he muttered. He sighed and reached for his armor.

"Jak."

He looked around wildly for a second until he realized it was his comm. Jak picked it up. Ashelin had set her frequency to directTalk; he still wasn't used to dT. He missed the warning beeps the comm usually gave when people tried to reach him. "Yeah?"

"I'm at Demolition Site 12B." Ashelin swung her comm around so Jak could see behind her. "There's something here that would interest you."

Jak rolled his eyes. Ashelin and the KG loved assigning random numbers to projects. "Why don't you just tell me about it now?" He pulled a splinter out of his tunic.

"I think you should see it yourself. Plus, we could really use some help." Click. The screen was black.

Jak sighed and hit another button on the comm.

"Naughty Ottsel."

"Hey Tess. Daxter there?"

Tess blinked. "I think he's in the back. Hang on." Her hand loomed over the screen as she picked the comm up. "How're you doing, Jak?"

"Pretty good. Got some more death threats today." He laughed.

"That's terrible." Tess frowned. "You should be careful."

"Of what? A bunch of superstitious slummers with nothing better to do than irritate the hell outta the guy who saved their city?" Jak ran his thumbnail along the edge of the Blaster gun, scratching away dirt. He didn't see Tess shake her head sadly.

"Yo?" Daxter's furry stare filled the screen.

"Dax!" Jak grinned at his friend. "You busy?"

"Do curious cats die? 'Course I'm busy!" Daxter waved his arms around. "The floor boards are swelling in the heat and some idiot moron ordered the low carb beer instead of the Lo Croix- what?" Jak heard muffled sounds from behind Daxter's comm. "That was you, babe? Oh, no, I didn't mean _idiot_ moron..." He sighed. "It's okay, I'll fix it."

Jak's face fell. "If you can, stop by DS 12B."

"Yeah. Sorry buddy. I'll catch up with you later." Click. Black screen.

Jak glared at the comm. "I hate when people hang up on me." He jammed it into his pocket and dressed quickly. The jet board stood against the door in a puddle of its own paint. "Dammit!" Jak vaguely recalled Keira warning him that regular house paint wouldn't be good for the board. He hadn't cared at the time; the Precursor flame design was awesome and flashed light when he jumped. "Friggin' board," he muttered. He pried it off the floor and shook it. Drops of silver and red splattered all over his pants. Jak swore under his breath and stepped outside.

Hot. Holy Mar, was it hot. Jak tied his bandana around his forehead and stepped on the board. It groaned and shot forward. "Whoa!" Jak lost his balance and fell. Once his weight was gone, the board stopped automatically. "Let's try that again," he said, ignoring the stares of the slummers. He planted his feet firmly and set off.

Boarding in the streets was a challenge, although the slummers usually tried to get out of his way. Boarding in the streets in the heat was nearly impossible. No one could be bothered to move quickly, and the board was prone to sudden jolts and unexpected turns. Its tiny motor constantly whined and gave off black clouds of exhaust. Jak grit his teeth and maneuvered around a crowded stand. The group of slummers glanced at him warily and made signs with their hands.

"Beware, Dark One," hissed the old woman behind the counter. She shook a purple jar at him and fanned her face with the other hand.

"Yeah, whatever." Jak sneered. The board thankfully shot ahead and he turned behind another building. "These people have serious loyalty issues." He jumped off the finicky board and strapped it to his back. "Hey," he shouted to a passing KG. "Where's DS 12B?"

The armored guard pulled his helmet up, glad for an excuse to escape the heat inside. He wiped his sweaty face and took a deep breath. "Clearance?"

Jak pulled out a pass. "Here."

The guard inspected it closely. "Straight ahead, hang right after the clothing store. Big glass windows, you'll see it. Damn, it's hot."

"Sure is." Jak readjusted his bandana.

"I've been called five times today for Indecent Exposures; these damn slummers don't know how to take it, so they take it off, see?" The guard grinned.

Jak nodded, muttered an incoherent goodbye, and strode off. _This armor almost makes me want to partake in some indecent exposure._ He shook his head and tried to get his mind off the heat. _When did Keira say that zoomer would be done?_ He checked the street signs against the map in his head. He'd been here only a few times before, back when he ran around doing side missions for the Underground. _Heh. What did she say about me needing grills more resistant than just 'dent resistant?'_ He thought for a minute, grinning at no one in particular. _I think she said I need collision resistance. I hope she can get those engine boosts upgraded before next month's qualifying races._

Jak turned right at Linna's Clothing Boutique and fished his pass out again. He showed it to the guard and hopped over the chain link fence. "Hoo, yeah. Look at that." Jak stood with his hands on his hips and surveyed the area.

Demolition Site 12B was much larger than the other two sites he'd help take down. There were mountains of debris everywhere. Some of the houses still stood; sweating KG's pounded the walls with demolishers. Young guards-in-training ran around frantically, carrying bottles of water and work orders. The old eco lighting system had been carefully dug up. Jak followed the grid, noting where people had put up deadly voltage signs. Pipes and open sewers spewed gunk all over the site, and it baked into the crumbling basements. The stench was extreme. Jak raised his eyebrows; at least this area didn't have high rise tenet housing like the rest. These shacks were probably made before high rises existed. Everything was covered in white dust and blurring in the heat. In the distance he spotted Ashelin, a body-shaped set of red armor and skin tone stripes. He kicked an ancient eco lighting board aside and made his way across a stinking puddle of sewage.

"Jak." Ashelin nodded and held her wrist up to her face, a small electric fan strapped to it. Her tattoos were faded under a layer of white grime. Jak squinted and stood next to her. Ashelin jutted her head at the giant umbrella that had been set up. "The only shade there is," she said, grinning. "Sometimes there are perks to this governess thing."

Jak shrugged and untied his bandana. "So... what's going on?" He wrung it out and streams of sweat ran down his wrists. He shook his hands.

"One of the guards-in-training found this," she said. She bent slightly and picked something up. "Look."

Jak took it. It was a trophy, beat up bad and covered in dust. He wiped the chipped plate. _First place in the Annual Men's 200 Standard Ring Challenge, 2:53.98_. He turned it over. "So? That's the record I beat last month. Big deal."

"No." Ashelin turned the trophy around again. "Look harder."

Jak did. "A picture...." He squinted.

"It's hard to see sometimes. It's a cheap old holopicture. Tilt it away from the light."

The corrugated plastic had blistered along the edge, but Jak could make out the subject of the picture. A young man in an old fashioned green shirt was jumping off a zoomer. Jak recognized the model as one of the first of the smaller, more compact types used for racing. He squinted at the painted writing on its side. _C lyl ve._ The blistered plastic obscured most of the name.

"Well?" Ashelin looked at him.

Jak shrugged. "I don't see anything special about this. It's a piece of junk."

Ashelin scoffed. "Men and details. Look at that guy."

"I did."

"Look again!"

Jak rolled his eyes. _All right. What's she whining about? We got a guy here, maybe mid twenties. He's real freaking happy about winning- woo hoo. I shattered that record by a whole 30 seconds._ He glanced up. Ashelin was still frowning at him. _Yeesh. Wonder who spat in her pudding this morning. Prolly Torn- she had to cut his KG funding again. Ok, Jak. Keep staring and eventually she'll give up and leave us alone._

"Don't you see it?"

"See what?"

"He _looks_ like you!" Ashelin waved her hands through the air in irritation. Her tiny fan whirred. "A _lot_ like you!"

Jak looked again. _Hey... she's right. He's got yellow hair. Mine used to spike like that._ "I guess... a little."

"A little? Jeez, Jak. I could get you a retro shirt like that and you'd be him."

"So what?" Jak felt uncomfortable. The man in the holopicture grinned wildly, and Jak knew they shared the same shade of ocular blue.

Ashelin shook her head. "Fine. I thought maybe you'd be a little curious. Excuse me for caring." She pushed past him and started screaming at the head of demolitions.

"Yeesh! What was that all about?" Daxter climbed up onto Jak's shoulder. He grinned at his friend's shocked face. "I had to get away from Tess, she's driving me nuts. Siggy-boy gave me a ride over." Daxter waved to the Wastelander, who was busy trying to find a place to park. "Woo, it stinks here. Hey, what's that?"

"Ashelin found this old trophy and-"

"Whoa! Is that you? Is this one of those old timey picture deals?" He snatched it from Jak's hands. "Why didn't you take me? I love getting my picture taken. I am the epitome of all that is photogenic- charm, rugged good looks, an animal attraction no woman can resist." He struck a pose. Jak stared at him, highly unamused. "Ahh... but I guess you're too busy saving the world to appreciate Fine Art." Daxter inspected the trophy. "Look, they even got your hair to stick up like it used to! How much glue did that take?"

"This _isn't_ me," said Jak, snatching it back. "It's just a coincidence."

"Just a coincidence? This guy's prolly one of your ancestors or something. We should look him up- have a grand ol' family reunion." Daxter panted a little and scratched his ears. "You are so lucky you don't have fur."

Jak silently agreed.

"Jak!" Ashelin shouted and pointed to her left. "They need help dewiring the eco sprawl!"

"Ooo, that doesn't sound dangerous at all," Daxter said. He imitated Ashelin's voice. "Here, Jak, you hold this end of the sparking eco wire while Daxter chews through the mainframe box to be sure there's no more power to this sector! It's okay to use Daxter for that because I'm a crappy governess who hasn't passed the Animal Equal Rights Act yet and it's still legal to abuse ottsels." Daxter stuck out his tongue and pretended to get shocked. "Zzzzz! Oh well, let's stuff him and put him on the mantle, next to Torn's dignity!"

Jak laughed. "I think the heat is getting to that tiny brain of yours," he said.

"You should see what it's doing to Tess," grumbled Daxter. "I remember heat rashes when I was human. I don't even want to know what's going on down there now."

Jak made a face. "Get off my shoulder."

"No prob, heat rock." Daxter jumped and stretched. "I'm gonna catch one of those guards-in-training and see if he'll spare some water for the quenched throat of a..." He paused. "A..." He stomped his foot. "See! It's too hot to even think of words anymore. I'm outta here." He took off after an exhausted guard.

Jak watched his friend go. He stood under the umbrella for a moment, unable to think about anything other than the heat and how much dewiring the eco sprawl was going to suck. "Jak!" He looked up. Ashelin was probably glaring at him from under all that dust on her face.

"I'm coming," he said. He shoved the trophy into his backpack and trudged over.


	3. Industrial Strength Wastelander Lye

Jak resisted the urge to peel his stinking clothes off at the apartment door. Instead, he ripped his boots off, threw them in a corner, and jumped to the shower. "Sweet, merciful Mar," he said softly. He silently thanked whatever Precursors were responsible for the slightly cooling effects of the night and tossed his filthy outerwear into a basket. Sig had given him some Industrial Strength Wastelander Lye and he used half the bottle.

After twenty minutes of frantic scrubbing, he shut the water off. "That is the last time I _ever_ go into the Contamination Vault. I don't care if the city goes up in eco flames." Jak grit his teeth at the thought. "Stupid mainframe box. Who the hell decided to build it under the sewers?"

Only the sounds of the night answered, a startling blend of illegal zoomer engines, swearing, and some animal sounds Jak definitely didn't want to know the origins of. He quickly dried and pulled on a long shirt; for as long as he could remember, he wore one to sleep. A slight breeze came in through the window, smelling of exhaust. Jak sighed and spread out on the bed, studying the ceiling.

_Those cracks there look like Krew's ugly, floating ass. I'll have to patch 'em._ He turned and looked out the window. Bright neon signs from across the street flashed irritatingly. He blinked. _If I pull down the shade, no air will come into the room, and I'll die while I sleep. If I leave the shade up, I'll have an epileptic seizure._ Jak groaned and buried his face in the pillow. _Why hasn't Ashelin found a better place for me to stay? _

A fight broke out. Cursing gave way to gunshots and Jak pressed the pillow over his ears. The thin material did nothing but make his ears hot. Jak groaned and heaved himself off the bed. He shaded his eyes and looked down on the street. Groups of slummers were exchanging money and waving guns. Jak stuck his head out the window. "Hey, you!" They looked up in alarm. "Shut the hell up! Some of us are trying to sleep!"

"And some of us are trying to enjoy our evening escorts! They ain't cheap, ya know!" Jak tilted his head. The old lady one floor above him was shaking her oxygen mask out her window. An unlocked pair of handcuffs dangled from her wrist. Jak shuddered and slammed the shade down.

The old lady was more effective than Jak's guns would have been; the slummers zoomed out of the street pretty quick. "Sweet mother of-" Jak wrinkled his nose. "Ugh." He stared at the basket of green and brown spattered clothing. "I should burn these." He held his breath, picked up the basket, and threw it into the shower. After he poured the rest of the lye onto the clothes, he turned the water on full blast. "Dammit!" He stuck his hand in carefully and removed his backpack. "I don't think water's good for the guns."

Jak dumped everything out of the bag and threw it back into the basket. He picked up his weapons and stood them up against the wall. "Oh. I forgot about you." The old trophy lay in a puddle of water. Jak shut the shower off and decided to deal with his armor in the morning. He picked up the tiny award. "Hmm...." He kneeled, searching for his own trophy under the bed, where it had rolled a month ago.

He studied them, one in each hand. The older one had a more complex design, Precursor symbols swirling out from the metal seams. It was heavier and crowned with the blistered holopicture. Jak's was much simpler; sleek and modern. It didn't have a picture, but the embossed plaque was engraved with his name, along with the event and his time. The new trophy shone in the light, reflecting silver into the dents of the old. He set his trophy on the floor and lay down with the old one on his stomach. "I'm the first to beat this time in years." He touched the chipped plaque.

_Racing's big in this city, I can't imagine someone leaving without taking this. Then again, Ashelin didn't give a lot of warning for them to move before starting demolitions. Whoever won this was probably showered in praise. Especially if he was a slummer- glory for your section can get you things._ "Some old slummer must be proud. Prolly bores his grandkids with the story. Prolly wants it back."  
_  
Some old slummer..._ He inspected the picture again. It was hard to see in the faint light. Jak tilted it. The tiny rivets in the plastic ran through the rainbow until he found the right angle. Grinning and jumping off his zoomer, the man was looking up and to the right. Jak noticed that the picture was fuzzy, except for the man's face. _Was that on purpose, or is it cuz of the crap technology?_ The zoomer looked horrendously boxy and not at all aerodynamic. _Crap technology. I wonder what he's looking at. Maybe the scoreboard. I'll hand it to him, that's a great time for such a piece of junk zoomer._ Jak yawned. _Maybe it's the light, but he does look like me. Creepy._ He tilted the holopicture the opposite way, straining his eyes, not really knowing what he was looking for. The man was thinner than him, probably because he was a slummer. In the background, Jak saw what looked like a fading accelerator ring. The lines in the picture ran together and his eyes crossed. "Ow." He blinked and yawned. The warm air pressed down and he was exhausted.

"That's enough," he muttered, sluggishly draping one arm over the bed to put the trophy on the floor. It clinked and fell over. Jak turned onto his stomach and shut his eyes. For the first time in months, he dreamed of Sandover; the wonderful feeling of sand below and sun above, his earliest memories after that blinding flash of light.


	4. Biohazard

"Jak!"

Jak groaned. The clammy air stuck to him as he slowly woke.

"Dammit! This thing is on dT, right?"

He heard Ashelin banging her comm on the nearest available metal surface.

"Ow! Dammit Ashelin!"

Jak grinned. That was Torn's voice.

"Jak! I'm serious, pick up your comm! You're gonna like this news."

Jak seriously doubted that. He managed to stick one arm out and felt around for the comm. "Coming," he muttered. He found it and flicked on the video. A furious Ashelin and a frowning Torn, rubbing his shoulder, regarded him.

"Bout time you answered," said Torn. "I was just gonna send a team over there to rip you a new one for not reporting in."

"Good morning to you, too." Jak rubbed one eye.

"Shut up," said Ashelin. "We have a serious problem."

_I'm shocked,_ thought Jak. He yawned._ A serious problem. Here in Haven? Never._

Ashelin frowned at him. "You need to check in at the Palace immediately for testing."

_Testing? _Jak woke up a little more.

"A level two contaminate was found at the site; you're at high risk_._"  
_  
_Jak narrowed his eyes. _I thought you said I was gonna like this news._

"Work on DS 12B has been temporarily halted."

_Wahoo!_

"So get your infected ass in here before you die and I have to pull even more KGs from duty to burn your body," said Torn.

"And bring any clothing or armor you wore yesterday with you."

"If I'm contaminated do I get the day off?" asked Jak. He grinned.

Torn's right eye twitched.

"Is that a yes?"

Ashelin's frown deepened. "Get to the Palace. We'll negotiate from there." The comm went black.

"Negotiate? What is there to negotiate? Either I get the day off for working all week and then getting infected, or I don't." Jak paused and looked down at his arms. "Am I infected?" The only answer was a steady drop of sweat making its way down his face. "Mar, it's so hot."

Jak looked at his armor with distaste. "She didn't mean I had to _wear_ it, did she?" He shoved everything into a plastic bag and put on a set of civilian clothes. As he reached for his sandals, his hand brushed the trophy. "Oh yeah." He picked it up and looked at it thoughtfully. The man in the picture grinned. Jak tucked the trophy into his extra backpack and stomped downstairs.

Outside, the streets were bare. _Not even the slummers are out, it's so hot. And it's only morning._ Jak edged his way through the streets, jumping from shadow to shadow, always trying to stay under an overhang. After only a few minutes his tongue hung out. He ducked into a convenience store and bought a flask of water. "Thanks," he muttered to the clerk. She pushed his change across the counter.

"This ain't a laund'ymat," she said, eyeing his bag of clothes.

"I know."

"Then you's business is done he'e, ain't it?" She twisted her fingers protectively, banishing the evils that came in with the Dark One. "Git."

Jak sighed and left. "Idiot," he muttered. "What do they think they're doing, waving their hands around like that all the time?" He frowned and pressed forward.

At last he came to the Palace door, shimmering in the heat. It opened and Jak almost died with relief as cold air blasted his face. He shivered and dropped the bag. "Oh yeah."

"Jak?" A man wearing a green biohazard suit pointed to him with a pen. His voice was muffled by the plastic mask over his face.

"Yeah." Jak squinted at the man. "Who're you?"

The man muttered, "underpaid medical technician." He scribbled on his clipboard. "This way. Leave the bag." He nodded to a guard and went through the door.

The long hallways were lined with white plastic. Every few minutes they stepped through a set of portable double doors. "What the hell is the problem?" asked Jak.

"A level two contaminate was found at DS 12B," said the man, not looking up from his board.

"Yeah. I know that. What does it mean?"

"After years of stagnancy, some of the sewage that was unearthed yesterday evaporated. We believe the fungus is a result of an old meds dump. The biologically active mist starts out as a nose, throat, and ear irritant. Have you had any problems breathing in the past twenty four hours?"

"Nope."

"Any shortness of breath? Any strange sensations while going from a sitting position to a standing position?"

"No." The plastic lined floor crinkled under Jak's feet. "Um. Should I be worried?"

The man paused. "We believe prolonged, untreated exposure could result in death."

"So yeah. Worried it is." Jak grit his teeth. They reached the end of the hallway and entered another room.

He recognized some of the KGs from yesterday, standing around uncomfortably. There were two lines. Ashelin and Torn were in one corner, talking to a doctor. Only a few of the med staff wore suits. Jak folded his arms and stood in a line.

After an eternity, he found himself standing before a young, black-haired man. "Name?" the medic droned, scanning his paperwork.

"Jak."

The man stiffened, then looked up. His green eyes were harsh, but as he stared, a faint fear crept into them. He pulled back his lips and hissed softly, revealing filed teeth. Part of his left ear was missing. A **Hi my name is Slitter** name tag was pinned to his biohazard suit. After a moment, he said, "right arm."

Jak extended his arm, staring down at the man with the utmost impatience. _Another superstitious moron, scared to death that he has to touch the unholy Dark One. I'm getting sick of this._

Slitter pulled on an extra set of gloves and flipped Jak's arm over. He pressed down on the inside of the elbow. Unlike most medics, he didn't flinch at the pulse of blood and dark eco. "Just a stick," he muttered. Jak grit his teeth as Slitter shoved the needle into his elbow. He looked away, waiting for the sucking pain to end. A few seconds later, he heard Slitter chuckling.

"What's so funny?" hissed Jak.

"Nuthin,'" replied the medic. He grinned at the vial; sticky red shot through with black. "Interesting specimen." He tilted the glass tube back and forth between two fingers, watching the colors.

"Yeah, real interesting." Jak leaned down and grabbed the man's collar. Slitter's smile vanished and he bared his teeth. "You wanna tell me if I can go home now?"

Slitter's eyes froze over. "Careful," he said. He tore Jak's hand off his neck with surprisingly strong fingers. "Don't know what you're dealing with." Slitter decanted the blood from the vial. He added a blue liquid. The blood turned black. "Negative for contaminate. You're free to go." He hesitated. "Free to go," he repeated. He shook his head.

"YEOW!"

Jak turned, recognizing that voice immediately. "You are NOT sticking that thing in THERE!" Daxter was standing on a table at the far wall, screaming in a startled medic's face.

"It's procedural with animals-"

"Listen, sweetheart! There are only a few things I let NEAR that area, and none, I repeat, NONE of them involve pointy COLD metal instruments!"

"Hey!" Torn turned away from Ashelin and the doctor. "Keep it down, or I'll rip your vocal chords out myself."

"I'll bite your fingers," muttered Daxter. The medic sighed and picked up a flashlight.

"Say ahh."

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." Daxter stuck out his tongue and gagged purposefully on the wooden stick.

The medic grit her teeth. "One more thing, sir," she said, picking up a needle.

"Oh no. OH NO!" Daxter turned to run, but she grabbed his tail. "Help! Jak! She's gonna stab me!"

"Can I have some assistance, here?!"

"I have very sensitive skin!"

Jak heard hissing at his elbow. Slitter was laughing to himself, watching the ottsel struggle against two Guards. Jak sneered at the man and walked over to his friend.

"It's okay, Dax. They only take a little."

"Hold him still, I need to take the sample from his nose." The medic squinted and pulled Daxter's head back. "Damn fur," she muttered.

"No! Not the face!" Daxter panted and grimaced. "Owwwww! Ow! Ottsels don't like pain!"

"We're done," spat the medic. She shook the tiny vial and added two blue drops. The blood turned black. "Negative for the contaminate. You can go."

"Finally!" Daxter swept his tail off the table in a huff. He rubbed his nose. "I'm sending my rhinoplasty bill to you."

Jak rolled his eyes and they walked over to Ashelin and Torn. "Seems like just a scare," Jak said casually.

Ashelin faced him, one hand on her hip. There were dark circles under her eyes. "What do you mean?" She pointed to a group of KGs walking into another room. "All those guards tested positive. They're going into isolation ASAP."

"Pity the furball isn't going with them," said Torn.

"Yeah, I'd be sure to bleed all over you," snapped Daxter.

"However," Ashelin said, a warning tone in her voice. "You need to come back tomorrow for another stick. We're not sure what the incubation period of the contaminate is."

"Incubation period?" Jak frowned. "Is this a chemical or what?" He and Daxter looked at each other.

"It's an airborne fungus that produces a chemical once established in the body," said Torn.

"A fungus?!" Daxter jumped up and down. "Doesn't that mean it could've spread all over the city by now?"

Ashelin rubbed her forehead. "We're doing the best we can to isolate the site. That's why demolitions have been canceled. So yes." She turned and faced Jak. "You do get a day off."

Jak grinned.

"Enjoy it while you can," said Torn. "There are two more eco sprawls to dewire."

"Oh great! More sliding around in the sewage of the city, risking death by electrocution!" Daxter sighed dramatically. "I almost miss the valiant missions where we got to kill Metal Heads!"

"There are plenty more of those outside the walls," hissed Torn. "Perhaps you'd like to see for yourself?"

"Nice try-"

"What's that guy's story?" Jak interrupted, pointing to Slitter.

Ashelin squinted. "He's been demoted."

"Why?"

"Used to work on some of the Baron's more... _intense_ projects," said Torn. "Need to know basis. Get out of here. We have tons of work to do."

"You can pick up your armor tomorrow," said Ashelin.

"Great. Another stab in the face. At least it wasn't in the back!" Daxter shouted at Torn. Jak hastily grabbed the ottsel and ran through the plastic lined hallways.

"Wooo! It's hotter than a nest of fireants out here," Daxter said, waving his face. He walked in Jak's shadow, instead of opting for his usual high perch.

"Yeah." Jak wiped his forehead, slick with sweat already. "Did you get that air at the Ottsel yet?"

"Nope. Repair man had the nerve to charge me four hundred up front, then demanded a few unacceptable services from Tess." Daxter snarled. "I bit him so hard he cried for his momma. I wish I had rabies."

Jak smiled weakly. "Is someone else gonna fix it?"

"Hope so. Sig said he'd pull some strings. There aren't very many Air/Duct guys in Haven." Daxter itched behind his ears. "This is killing me. I'm about to gnaw my own fur off. Is there anywhere else to go in this stinkin' city?"

"Hmm..." _Keira doesn't have air. I don't know where Sig lives. If the water slums weren't so disgusting I'd dive in. Maybe the Temple...?_

"Ohhh... I know where we can go." Daxter grinned, then looked at Jak. "Wait. No. Never mind."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What?!"

"Nothing!"

Jak sighed. "What about the Underground?"

"I dunno. Well, it _is_ underground."

Jak rolled his eyes. "It's not too far. Let's go."


	5. Ancestor give strength

The door to the Underground wheezed open, catching on a few scattered pebbles. Jak hit it with his fist until it shut again. _Mar, it's not much cooler down here._

"Is that furry four eyes?" whispered Daxter, peering ahead.

"Guess so," said Jak. They made their way around the bunk beds and stood under the lights. "Hey Brutter."

The Lurker's head snapped up. His fur curled around his face in the humidity. "Oh! Brutter not see brother Jak and little orange one come in."

"How's it going?" Daxter asked lazily, jumping up on the table. Loose papers scattered everywhere as he bent over, examining the mess. "You planning to overthrow Ashelin, too?"

Brutter laughed and pushed some files aside. "Brutter working on Exodus Outlander Program. It give more rights to Lurker tribes. First order; move ancient family statues to safer place." He picked up a map. "This chart of caves and mining facilities under Haven. But it not right one."

Daxter eyed the mountains of papers. "Buddy, if you're looking for _one_ map in this whole mess, you've got a long look ahead of you."

Brutter sighed and nodded. "It very important. Old map, all in green ink."

"Green ink, huh?" Jak shrugged his backpack off and opened it. "I think Torn gave me some discontinued maps when I started working for the Underground. They weren't always accurate, but they got me where I needed to go." The heat had clumped the papers together. Jak frowned and held his pack upside down, shaking it.

With a clunk, the old trophy hit the floor, yellowed maps fluttering down and settling beside it.

"Oh! This perfect!" Brutter snatched one of the maps and adjusted his glasses. "This give sector Brutter was unsure about. This tell good passage through southwest tunnel system. Thank you, brother Jak." He folded the map and tucked it into his shirt. "What that?"

"A trophy," Jak said, handing it over.

"Congratulations," said Brutter. "Look at metal etching! Old fashioned style. Handsome reward for good race time. Brother Jak good with zoomer! Brutter wish he'd taken one home to momma. But Lurkers not allowed to race."

The purple beast looked so fondly at the trophy that Jak found himself saying, "you can keep it, if you want."

"No, no. Brutter cannot accept brother Jak's offer. Trophy has likeness of Jak. It against Lurker tribe laws to have picture of brother. Especially holopicture. Plastic captures Lurker soul."

"But Brutter, it's not me."

"It not?" Brutter stared at the smiling man in green. "Then who?"

"_I_ think it's some old relative of Jak's," said Daxter. Jak rolled his eyes. "C'mon. Nothing this mysterious has happened since that time _someone_ put itching powder in my dust bath." Daxter narrowed his eyes. "I don't know for sure who it was, but I have a very good idea! And he will pay."

Jak and Brutter looked at each other as the ottsel muttered vague death threats.

"Brother Jak keep trophy. It bring good luck." Brutter placed it in Jak's hand. "Find ancestor! Ancestor give strength. Lurker tradition always honor forefathers."

"But Brutter, he's not my-"

"Here, Brutter have polish." He fumbled in his huge yakkow skin bag. "Make trophy shiny again. Brutter love shiny things!"

"Thanks." Jak took the half empty bottle of polish and stuffed it into his backpack. He looked at the metal working again. "How old are you, Brutter?"

"Lurkers age gracefully. Brutter almost fifty seven."

"Wow!" said Daxter, interrupting his own stream of intricate payback schemes. "You don't look a day over thirty two. Seriously. Is this true of all talking animals?"

Brutter patted Daxter's head, sticking his fur up in all directions. "Little fuzzy one have long life! Filled with good things. You helped Lurker tribe, yes yes. Many good things."

"That's reassuring," grumbled the ottsel. He licked his paws and tried to smooth his fur back.

"Did you see this race?" Jak indicated the trophy, then put it in his pack.

The Lurker shook his head sadly. "Brutter slave many years ago. Slave not allowed to attend race."

"Do you know who might've seen it?" asked Daxter.

Brutter shrugged. "Oldest person in world is Onin."

"Hmm," said Daxter. "She _is_ older than Samos, if you don't count all that time travel. And even then..."

"Thanks, Brutter. Good luck with your program." Jak strapped his backpack on and stood.

"Let's go bother Onin!"

Jak waited until they stepped outside to reply. "Why?"

Daxter fanned his face with his tail. "You kidding? We gotta find out who that guy is!"

"He's nothing." The hot air scorched Jak's lungs. He breathed slowly.

"C'mon Jak. The guy looks like you! Even Brutter could see that."

"Coincidence." Jak scanned the markets for shade. He started walking.

"That's a big coincidence. He's at least a cousin of yours. Face it buddy." Daxter jumped, stood on his friend's shoulder, and pointed to an obese man desperately fanning himself in a store window. "Your physique isn't the most common around here. Haven't you ever wondered about your past?"

"No."

Daxter blinked. "Really?"

Jak stared straight ahead.

"Cuz I always figured you'd, ya know, wanna know who your mom was, or something. Back in Sandover you didn't have one. You _never_ wondered about it?" Daxter looked down at his paws. "I mean, what's the worst it could be? If you were a kid here, then you were born here. At least you know Kor's not your mom!"

Jak snorted. "Where was my mom then? The first time we saw the kid he was with Kor. And look at the monster he turned out to be. What kind of parents would give their kid away?"

"I dunno. Maybe you were kidnapped! Oh, the intrigue."

Jak rolled his eyes. "The picture's creepy, I'll give you that. But it doesn't have anything to do with me."

"I think it does." Daxter brushed dust off his knees. "And you gotta go with the animal instinct. My gut tells me something." He paused, tilting one ear towards his stomach. "Well, not in words, but you know what I mean. We don't know what happened to you before you were with Kor. Maybe this can help us find out."

"I don't think so."

"Yeah, right. Like the last few ancient artifacts we found didn't have anything to do with your past," Daxter said sarcastically.

"This is different. Just a beat up piece of metal. Nothing Precursor about it."

"Wouldn't you at least _try_ to find out?"

Jak made an irritated noise. _Yeah, actually, I would. But it bothers me. I've gone my whole life not knowing where I came from. _He wiped his forehead. _And if there's one thing this city's taught me, it's that the more you know, the more it hurts. When you go digging for answers, all you get is mystic riddles and crap. Usually ends in disappointment, lots of people getting hurt... _Jak glanced up. _No damn zoomers. Gonna have to walk the whole way._ He sighed and took a right. Daxter grinned as he recognized the direction they were going in.

An excruciating fifteen minutes later, Jak peeked around the tent flap. "Shh." He motioned to Daxter.

Pecker lay, spread eagle, on the floor. He lifted one wing in Onin's direction. "-as if we could do anything about it! Look at my feathers! I'm sweating oils like you would not believe. Sheesh. You'd think we would have something better to do than sit in a stupid tent all day, listening to slummers whine about the weather. Oh wait. I _do_ have something better to do all day. It involves oasis ponds and birds of paradise. But _who_ decided not to let Pecker fly north for vacation?" There was a pause. "What's that? More are coming? Let them. I am not moving." Another pause. "I don't care if it's not professional! And I am _not_ the one getting all cranky in the heat!" There was a flash of light and a scream.

Pecker's frown deepened when he saw who entered. "RAAAAWK?! I had to get up for _you?_ That's it. I quit." He stepped off Onin's hat defiantly and she clapped her hands. "I've had just about enough!" He waved one feathery fist at the old woman and then faced Jak. "Onin says many happy welcoming things that I am too furious to translate. Sweaty Pits here isn't getting any sweeter smelling, so get to the point quickly. Do not ask about the heat wave or I will cause you unbearable pain."

"I want to know whose trophy this is." Jak set it on the floor.

Pecker huffed. "To my ultimate surprise, Onin is actually interested in answering your question. I should've seen this coming; a long boring lecture that has absolutely nothing to do with me going to a cooler climate." He waited, watching the old woman's hands weave patterns of light through the air. Occasionally she stopped signing to wipe her forehead. "Okay... hmm... okay... I see." Pecker turned and faced Jak. "Onin says she cannot tell you."

"What?!" Daxter pointed. "Look at all that swirly mist! There's an answer in there. You're just not giving it to us." He narrowed his eyes at the moncaw.

Pecker waved his wings defensively, spraying sweat and oil everywhere. "No, that truly is the gist. Onin says that it was not her decision; she simply cannot tell you."

"Why?" asked Jak.

"She says there is a reason you cannot know your past. It is a reason made based on love and wisdom, so naturally, I don't expect you to understand it at all."

"Love? Wisdom?!"

"Please refrain from shouting in the tent!" Pecker flapped his wings at Daxter in irritation. The ottsel grimaced and wiped his face.

"Who made this decision?" Jak asked.

"Ahh. Here we are getting into a delicate situation. Onin says the answer to that question is intricately connected to the reason itself. So she can't tell you."

"You mean someone made a decision to erase my past and didn't bother to see if I'd mind?"

"Basically... yes."

"Was it this guy?" Jak held up the trophy angrily.

"Onin will not talk about that."

Jak scoffed. "Is there anything she _will_ talk about?"

"No." Pecker turned and climbed up onto the old woman's hat. "Wait. She says she cannot tell you anything, but if you look into your heart, blah blah love crap, you will find the answers you seek. But I will tell you something to get you out of here faster. The man on the trophy is indeed related to you. If you had any brains in your head, you'd know that you have more than enough information already to figure out who he is."

"Where do I start?"

"Am I not speaking your language? Onin can't answer your questions! Get out!"

"What're you gonna do about the heat?" asked Daxter, winking at Jak.

"I'm going to sacrifice you to the Precursors!" Pecker launched himself into the air. "Uh oh-" He plummeted to the dirt floor. "You're lucky," he said weakly. "That I am too leaden with oil to fly over there and rip your liver out. Though I'm sure it's much too yellow to serve as a good sacrifice."

"Yealch. Keep your slimy hand... things... away from me. C'mon Jak. Let's go somewhere _cool._"

They walked out with Pecker still waving a fist at them from the floor.


	6. Prototype Three

_"She says there is a reason you cannot know your past."_

_So that's it. You have a past you can't remember, Jak, and your only key to it is that beat up hunk of metal. Someone, somewhere, knows what happened._

_"Look into your heart..."_

_Yeah, whatever. I lost that a long time ago._

_Whoever did this will pay. _

"Well, that was helpful," Daxter said. They stood outside the tent, trying not to breathe deeply.

Jak scowled. "Right back where we started. In the heat with no questions answered." He wiped his forehead and looked at his hand in disgust.

"So, you're interested now?"

"Yeah! I'd like to know who messed with my memories." Jak squinted at the old trophy. The cheap holopicture was blinding in the sunlight. "Onin said I can't know my past... and I don't remember anything that happened before the Kid went through the ring. Does that mean someone sabotaged it so I'd be Samos' willing little chore boy in Sandover? Think it was him?"

"Old Greeny? Naw. I think she was talking about your memories before Samos found the Kid wandering the streets."

Jak frowned. "How did I get the medallion-"

"I was right, though," Daxter interrupted smugly. "That guy is your ancestor."

Jak rolled his eyes.

"What pisses me off," continued Daxter. "Is that Stupid Feather Skull wouldn't tell us what was going on. Did you hear how I said 'Stupid?' It was capitalized, cuz he's really really Stupid."

Jak sighed. "_Onin_ wouldn't tell us. Pecker's just the translator."

"Yeah? Well, she was doing a lot more signing than he was translating." Daxter huffed and scurried into Jak's shadow. "Lean to the left- thanks." He looked up. "At least we can start figuring out who that guy is now."

"Oh?"

Daxter grinned. "I, as you must have noticed, am a genius." He bowed. "Using my mighty ottsel brain I have thought of an idea so clever that no one else has thought of it."

"Really?" Jak folded his arms.

"Yes." Daxter cleared his throat. "If you beat this guy's record, then there must be a record of the record somewhere!"

"Idiot!" came Pecker's voice from inside the tent. "I had already thought of that!"

"Then why didn't you say it?" screamed Daxter.

"I was afraid the brilliant magnitude of it would scald your tiny brains forever." The moncow paused. "Hmm. Maybe I should have said it then..."

"You're lying," said Daxter. He puffed out his chest and turned away from the tent. "I'm leaving this sector, and you're all uglier without me."

Jak's comm beeped. He flicked it open and squinted into the screen.

"Jak?" Keira's face was blotched out in the sun. He put his hand over the screen to shade it.

"Yeah?"

"Are you busy?"

Jak glanced at Daxter, who was sauntering away. "Nope."

"Great! I have the collision resistant grills almost done. There's also a prototype booster engine I'd like you to try out." Keira held up a tiny spring. "This is a new idea of mine that I think will really pay off. It's expensive, but with all your recent winnings, the import fees should work out."

Jak nodded. "We'll be there. Oh." He grinned sheepishly. "About the jet board..."

Keira frowned. "Don't tell me you used that paint."

"Um." Jak looked around nervously. "I used that paint."

Keira made a noise and sighed. "Bring it with you." She clicked the comm off.

"Hey, what's eating the ratchet wench?" asked Daxter. He skittered up to his usual place on Jak's shoulder. "Ooo." He danced. "Hot hot hot." He lifted his feet up and down from the metal guard.

"The jet board," Jak said. "I painted it and it all kinda melted off."

"The Precursor flames? Those were cool."

"Yeah, they were."

Jak plodded through the streets in silence. He stopped at his apartment to get the jet board. "I want to see if I can get some of this off," he said. He tossed Daxter a rag.

Daxter helped him smear the remaining house paint everywhere.

"Good as new!" The ottsel grinned in his swirly reflection. "Hey, that spot there looks like old Fern Gully."

"Yeah, it's pretty bad." Jak surveyed the board with a frown. The metal looked tarnished. He sighed. "Keira should be able to fix it. Come on, I have an idea..."

For once, Jak was thankful for his intimate knowledge of Haven's sewer system. He and Daxter wound around the labyrinth and surfaced near the Stadium. "I can't believe it's cooler down there," he said, kicking the access cover shut.

"Still stinks to high Hip Hog," groaned Daxter, fanning his face. "It's so hard to get that smell outta fur." He glanced at the stadium, sizzling in the heat. "I don't wanna walk all the way to the shop. Let's ride!"

Jak shrugged and activated the board. The metal plates shrieked as it unfolded. The house paint had baked on in a disgusting brown color. _I hope that's the house paint_. Jak jumped on the board. It squealed and shot forward. "Whoa!"

"Yahhhh!" Daxter dug his claws into Jak's shoulder. They clattered up the white stairs and nearly missed the short security columns. "Watch out!"

Jak bent his knees, trying to coax the board into a swerve. It sputtered and died. Daxter screamed and they smashed into a wall.

"...ow..."

"Looks like someone forgot I told him the board doesn't work when it gets overheated."

Jak glanced up blearily. Keira stood against the wall arch, arms folded. Her figure wavered and slowly came into focus. Like many of the city's female slummers, she wore a thin, strapless, low cut white dress with large holes in the midsection. It was a fashion craze; the least amount of clothing one could legally wear and still remain relatively cool in the heat.

"Don't you remember the old A-Grav? The board's response system is based on that." Keira shook her head and bent down, holding out a hand.

"Oooh, hello," said Daxter. "Feelin' snazzier already." He popped up and grinned.

Keira shot him a look and snapped her arms back over her chest.

Jak groaned and pushed himself off the dust. "You look nice," he offered weakly. He picked up the board and wiped dirt from its sad surface.

Keira's hair was dark blue with sweat. "Thanks," she said, pushing it off her neck. She looked away. "I heard about the contamination," she said quietly. "I'm glad you're okay, Jak."

"Yeah, _Jak._ Glad you're okay."

Keira turned. "C'mon in, I have something to show you. Leave the board there. I think I can fix it." She pointed to the corner and hurried over to a table.

The shop was crammed with tools and pieces of sheet metal. A few scattered fans blew stale air. Behind the sooty curtain, the furnace in the back sent out heat waves. Jak leaned the board up against a wall.

"What're these?" Daxter jumped onto the table and picked up a tiny spring.

"Those are impact coils for the collision resistant grills." Keira held up a contoured piece of metal. "I cut this to fit in the front swoop panels of the race zoomer. There are a bunch of holes drilled into the back." She turned it over. "Where the impact coils go." She took the spring from Daxter's paw and screwed it in. "I think if there are enough of these springs, the damage you get during races will decrease by at least sixty percent."

"Neat," said Daxter. He poked his finger into one of the holes. "Uh oh-" He grimaced and tried to pull his finger out.

"The grill itself is something I've been working on for a while," Keira continued, unaware of Daxter's plight. She bent her head, inspecting the edge of the grill. "It's an alloy of Precursor metal to steel, fifty fifty."

"Interesting," Jak said, skirting around to where Daxter was.

"When you run into something, the collision grill will pass the force of the blow along each impact coil. Hopefully by the time the grill hits the zoomer body, it will have lost the majority of its kinetic energy."

Jak grabbed the ottsel's paw and yanked.

"YEEEOW!"

Keira looked up sharply. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing," said Daxter, between his teeth. "Just marveling at your." He shook his paw. "Amazing skills."

"Do I have to tell you not to touch anything?"

"Nope," the ottsel said darkly. "Figured that one out on my own, thank you."

"Good. You could really hurt yourself playing around with these things." Keira put the grill down. "Want to see the booster engines? I already put them on the zoomer and got clearance for a test drive at the track."

"That sounds great." Jak followed Keira out, glancing at the board with a twinge of guilt.

"What a handsome guy," Daxter said, pointing to the posters on the stadium walls. He grinned. "I heard in certain parts of the cities, women are ripping down the half with Jak's face on 'em. Just leaving Orange Lightning up for all to see. Yep. Basking in my photo-enlarged glory."

Jak rolled his eyes.

"Or maybe they're taking the more heroic half home with them." Keira giggled.

"Well." Daxter scoffed. He searched his brain for a different subject. "Did you hear what Ashelin found?"

"What?" Keira turned to face the ottsel.

"Seems Shock Blondie's got a relative around here somewhere."

"Really?" Her eyes were round. "That's wonderful!"

"We went to Onin, but Pecker wouldn't tell us what she was saying." Daxter said, fumbling around the backpack. Jak staggered as his center of gravity changed. "Here it is!" He tossed the trophy out from under his tail.

Keira caught it with both hands. "Where'd she find this?"

"DS 12B," said Jak. "Old slummer homes."

"Wow." Keira inspected it thoroughly. She tapped the chipped plaque. "Isn't this the record you beat?"

"Yep."

"He looks so much like you, Jak," she said softly. "This is your relative?"

Jak hesitated. "Yeah."

"I wonder who."

They continued in silence. Jak felt increasingly uneasy as Keira turned the trophy over and over, searching the dents and swirling Precursor etching for answers he sensed he himself could not see. She finally handed it back when they walked up to the zoomer launch.

"Okay, I want to show you where I put the new boosters." Keira excitedly ran to the racing machine and kneeled. "See, this is where I pulled the old engines out." She pointed to a line of metal sealant.

Daxter scratched his head. "Where are the new ones?"

"Exactly!" Keira's eyes brightened. "They're melded into the mainframe. That's to decrease air resistance and weight. It should also combust the pink racing boosts more efficiently." She glanced from side to side. "I've been really careful to keep this thing hidden. You're going to blow them all away!"

Jak grinned, pushing thoughts of the trophy into a deep corner of his mind. Keira stepped back as he crossed to touch the zoomer's metal skin. The tiny acceleration ring burns had been carefully sanded out. He bent and examined the exhaust system. It had been streamlined and additional filters had been added. _Prototype Three_ was painted on its side.

"You know, you still have to properly name it," Keira said.

"How about _The Amnesia_!"

Jak shot Daxter a look.

"What?"

Ignoring the ottsel's 'innocent face,' Jak asked, "can I try it out?"

"Sure! The driving mechanisms are all the same as before. I'll time you." Keira turned and ran down the steps.

Once she had safely exited the zoomer launch, Jak jumped on. The trap door opened and the vehicle floated down to the start line. Keira waved from the stands.

"Let's toast some hydrocarbons," said Daxter.

Jak leaned and wrenched the ignition.

Every zoomer, even the cheapest one on the street, had a characteristic drive vibration. Jak was most attuned to _Prototype Three's_ steady _tk-tk-tk-tk_. It throbbed around his ankles, unconsciously helpful in judging gear shifts, but mostly went unnoticed in the excitement of a race.

The enhanced zoomer shot forward. Daxter dug his nails into Jak's neck. The new boosters practically bellowed, shuddering along the body of the mainframe. _SHHKA-SHHKA-SHHKA!_ Jak's eyes widened and he heard the ottsel's teeth chatter.

Air rushed across the front swoop panels and ripped past the two riders. The perspiration that had soaked Jak's clothes ran cold and he shivered. Clamping his legs tighter to its sides, he frantically steered the zoomer through the Class Three course. Jak couldn't help but grin, though the walls loomed dangerously close. _Prototype Three_ was now, undeniably, the fastest zoomer in Haven.

By the third time around the track, Jak was laughing aloud. Daxter screamed something about insanity, but it was lost on deaf ears. Jak lost count of the laps as the walls melted into each other. Through the powerful drive vibration he could feel the zoomer strive like a live thing. It seemed to exult in the velocity as much as he; almost turning the sharp corners and avoiding the open pits on its own. The old racing thrill burned in him with renewed flame. After what seemed like a split second eternity of acceleration and adrenaline, Jak caught a glimpse of Keira waving.

"Holy Mar!" Keira vaulted over the seats as Jak skidded to a stop. "You did the course in two fifteen!"

"Shhka shhka!" Daxter jumped off Jak's shoulder and walked around loopily. His arms shook as the muscles tried to loosen their panicked knots. "I don't think I can eat for a week!" He fell over and clutched his stomach.

"Hmm," said Jak. He shook his head and unsteadily walked the zoomer back to the starting line. His legs trembled, sending remnants of the drive vibration up his spine. The heat settled back onto his skin. He could finally hear his heart pumping in his ears. "Five laps in over two minutes? Seemed faster than that."

"No!" Keira held up her stop watch and counter. "Seven!"

Jak stared. "What?"

"You went around seven times! That's an average of." She tapped the counter, jumping up and down all the while. "Nineteen seconds per lap!" She grabbed Jak's shoulders. "Don't you see what that means?!"

"Whoa there." Jak took her forearms and tried to hold her steady, but couldn't squash the excitement bubbling up within. "Yeah-"

"The best lap time you ever had was twenty four seconds, and _this is your very first time using the new zoomer!_" Keira turned and shrieked with joy.

Daxter sat up slightly. "That's not helping my headache."

Stunned, Jak looked down at his hands. _I just did a lap in nineteen seconds. I just did a lap in nineteen seconds. There weren't even any boosts on the course. _

"You're going to have an average of a minute thirty five!" Keira spun in circles. "A minute thirty five per race, Jak!"

"W-wow," Jak leaned against the zoomer in disbelief. His insides were a frenzied mess of fervor, nausea, and shock.

"No one's ever broken the two minute mark in the stadium races!" Keira's eyes were shining. She ran to Jak and hugged him. He grunted in surprise and flushed slightly. "Oh my gosh! I can't wait for next month!" Tears of happiness ran down her face and stained his civilian clothes. "Oh, sorry!" Embarrassed, she wiped her cheeks and pulled away.

"'Sokay," said Jak, grinning madly. He gripped the zoomer's handles, still unsteady on his feet. Keira fanned her sweating face.

"I say we celebrate immediately," said Daxter from the racing floor. He held up one arm in defiance of dizzying gravity. "Someone pick me up and drag me to the Ottsel."


	7. The Entertainment Archives

**The Entertainment Archives come from another fic of mine (they're all connected like a sticky spider web of doom!) called A Day in the Horrible Life of Marvin.**

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* * *

**

Keira danced to _Prototype Three_ and threw a tarp over it. She flicked on her comm. "Computer! Alloygirl done with track. Transport race vehicle Streamline23 to Alloygirl shop. Clearance level BurnMark."

"Clearance approved. Vehicle Streamline23 will be delivered to destination. Please exit promptly; doors will begin automatic lockdown in thirty seconds." The stadium computer softly counted the time remaining. Jak scooped up the ottsel and followed Keira off the racetrack.

"I still can't believe it," she said, wiping her forehead. Keira grinned and pocketed her stopwatch and counter. "Woo! I need water."

Daxter gurgled.

"Yeah," said Jak. "I agree with him." _What a ride! I really have to thank Keira for all the work she does. Damn, I'm thirsty._

Keira laughed and they made their way back to her shop. "Ooh, we can do without the extra heat, huh?" She slammed the furnace door shut and turned on the water. "There are some glasses above the sink- hey!" The flowing water turned brown, sputtered, and stopped. "What the-" She turned the faucets on and off. Mud oozed up from the drain hole. The spigot shuddered and a strange noise echoed in the plumbing.

"That's odd," said Jak. He stretched his legs, still wobbly from the zoomer ride.

"Ugh," said Keira. She wiped her hands on a towel.

Daxter kicked the sink. "C'mon! Gimmie some water! I'm dying here!"

Keira bent to examine the pipes. "I don't see any obstructions or lacerations-"

The three jumped as the citywide speakers crackled to life. "Attention Haven citizens..." The stadium supports reverberated in the distance. Ashelin waited for the static to subside. "This is your governess."

"Thanks for clarifying," said Daxter, clamping his ears shut. "I thought they gave the mike to anyone with enough assets-"

"Daxter!" Keira frowned at him.

"Due to the drought, all available water has been restricted to the Farming Sectors. Shortages have been programmed into the city's Treatment System and Plumbing Facilities. They will remain in place until the next rainfall. See your Sector center hologuide for shower scheduling and water rations. All rationing will be conducted in a civil manner."

"Water rations?" Daxter looked horrified. "The slummers are gonna go nuts! There'll be bloodshed in the streets!"

Jak nodded. Keira bit her lower lip.

"Entrances to public water wells and underground streams have been sealed. Do not attempt to break through. Any person found vandalizing a water post will be taken into custody." Ashelin paused. "This is only temporary. Other solutions are being looked into. Also, it is highly recommended that all citizens stay clear of DS 12B and surrounding areas. Anyone who has been exposed to sewage from said Sector is to report to the Palace immediately. Cooperation and calmness are our allies during this trying time."

Jak, Daxter, and Keira winced as the citywide speakers emitted a shrill tone and went silent.

"_Highly recommended?_" Jak shook his head. "She should put a fence around that whole part."

Daxter scowled. "If anyone infects me, I'll kill 'em myself."

Keira sighed and reached for the jet board. "Something like this happened a year or so ago." She activated it and pulled the circuit board out. "There was a drought. It got to the point where water was more precious than eco."

"Wow," said Jak. "That's kind of scary." _People start doing dangerous things when the eco is in short supply. What do they do when they can't meet their basic needs?_

Keira set the circuit board aside and tried to pull the engine compartment apart. "Yeah, really. The water slums dried out and they held auctions under the stilted huts." She grabbed a screwdriver and jammed it into the compartment groove.

"Auctions?"

"Yeah. Selling little kids for water, that kind of stuff." Keira hit the end of the screwdriver with her palm.

"That's... disgusting," said Jak. He watched Keira try to pry the jet board open. _I feel bad about that. I'm sorry, Keira._

"Who bought 'em?" asked Daxter.

"I don't know. I don't ever want to know." Keira pushed down. "Damn! The paint glued the compartment shut." She sighed and pushed her sweaty hair back. "I can't do this right now. I need a solvent for the paint. And guess what?" She put one hand on her hip.

"Water's the best solvent?" guessed Daxter.

"That's right." Keira sat down gloomily. "I can't do most of my metal work without it. I use it as a coolant..." She looked around her shop and sighed.

"Yeah, not to mention, _I'm_ gonna die of thirst any minute now." Daxter looked up. "Do something, Jak!"

Jak shrugged. "I can't make it rain."

"Hmmph. Some hero."

Jak rolled his eyes.

"Well, there's no use moping around here," said Keira. She glanced around the workshop. "I've got an idea. I think I should go and talk to Ashelin."

"Want us to come-"_ If I can get Daxter to shut up, I can talk to her while we walk over._

"No way!" said Daxter. "I'm not going back there!" He pouted. "They want my life juices."

Keira laughed. "No, it's ok. I have an idea for you guys, too. Give me a second." She scurried around the counters, clipping tools to her belt. "I was thinking... yes. That should work." She looked up. "Got that trophy you showed me? I have a friend in the Entertainment Archives who might be able to help you." She curled her fingers. "Follow me."

Keira locked the shop and pointed across the hallway. "There's the entrance to the BOTAFEA. Type _Alloygirl_ to get in. There's a retired KG at the bottom of the stairs. Tell him you need to see Marvin and that I sent you. I've never been to the Entertainment Archives, but you should be okay from there."

"Sounds easy enough," said Jak.

"Please let me know what he tells you," said Keira. She glanced at his backpack. "I have a feeling that trophy's important."

"Thanks."

Daxter typed in Keira's password as she left. He wiggled his fingers. "Did it work?"

"I think so."

The door opened partially and two eyes peered out at them, one pink, one white. "IDENTIFY YOURSELVES!"

Jak stumbled backwards. "Uh-"

"I'm Daxter! I helped saved the city! Keira sent us."

The eyes narrowed. "IDENTIFY OTHER PERSON!"

Daxter turned to Jak. "Looks like someone hasn't graduated to full sentences yet." Jak smiled. Daxter turned back. "That's Jak. He's with me." The door slid into the wall. Daxter tilted his head up. "Hey there... Slappy." He patted the man's knees as he walked under his legs. "Don't work too hard."

"Er..." Jak glanced at the huge ex KG and edged around him. He couldn't help staring at the infected pink eye. It was truly disgusting. Especially when it twitched. "Uh, sorry, we gotta, uh-"

"Slappy, buddy, where can we find Marvin?" Daxter peered around the hallway at the bottom of the stairs.

Slappy grunted, clenching his fists. He pushed Jak aside and led them past some broken vending machines and an elevator. "BACK UP!" Slappy whirled around and broke a wooden door open with a high kick.

"Thanks," said Daxter. "So, it's just down this exceedingly dark and creepy stairway?"

"AFFIRMATIVE!"

"Oh, okay." Daxter skittered behind Jak. "After you."

Jak turned to thank Slappy just in time to see the ex KG run down the hall screaming, "DOOR DOWN! BREACH IN SECTOR FOUR! DOOR DOWN!"

"Yeesh," said Daxter, scratching his neck. "I think that guy has problems."

"You think _he_ has problems," Jak jumped as a voice called up the stairs. A feeble light shone at the bottom. "Wait til you get down here."

"That's real encouraging," whispered Daxter. He crouched closer to Jak's shoulder.

"Are you friends of Keira?" the man asked.

"Yeah," said Jak. He squinted into the darkness. "I'm looking for Marvin."

"You found him." Marvin waited patiently as Jak felt his way down the stairs, occasionally grabbing the splintered banister for support. "Welcome to the Entertainment Archives." He held up his tiny oil lamp.

Jak gasped. The place was a cave. Giant stalactites hovered at the edges of darkness, dripping foul water onto the slippery floor. A faint path could be seen disappearing into the distance, worn into the bedrock by years of footsteps.

"You're lucky Cracky isn't here," said Marvin mournfully. "She's insane."

Jak looked at the man. His shirt was at least thirty shades of pink, ripped, stained, and burned. The remains of some pink tulip buttons could be seen at the collar. One arm was in a cast and he had bandages around his legs. His forehead was bleeding from a recent cut. "Uh... huh."

"And you're not?" asked Daxter skeptically.

"No, actually," Marvin blinked slowly. "I'm not insane. Just very, very _un_lucky." He turned and led the way. Jak and Daxter looked at each other uncertainly. "What kind of information do you need?"

"Well," started Jak. "I have this old trophy. I was hoping you could tell me who won it."

"Certainly," said Marvin. "I finally finished updating everything. It took me _months_. Not just to put all the records into some sort of order, but to convince-" he glanced around fearfully, "-Skeletor that putting everything on computers would be a good idea."

"Skeletor? Cracky? Why don't I like the sound of this?" asked Daxter.

"Ooh, you better not say that when we get to the main room," warned Marvin. "Be sure to call her Agnes."

"Uh, okay." Daxter made the crazy sign.

"What model or year is it?" asked Marvin.

"I don't know." Jak reached into his bag and pulled it out. "Here-"

"Hold on," said Marvin. He pushed a heavy door open. "Here's the main room. That's Agnes." He pointed to one of the oldest people Jak had ever seen.

Agnes glared at them. "You said 'Skeletor' out there, didn't you?!"

"No, Agnes, of course not-"

"And so did you!" She jabbed one finger in Daxter's direction. "I'd take your hide for earmuffs if it weren't for my arthritis!"

"Hey! Relax, lady!" Daxter gritted his teeth. "I've already had blood drawn today. You don't wanna mess with me!"

Agnes' frown was a sea of wrinkles and baggy skin.

"Eh... anyway. I have to help these people with something in my archives," said Marvin. He pushed Jak slightly. "Keep moving."

"I want those Supra-dull Population Expansion charts done by today!" Agnes rapped her knuckles on her desk.

"Okay." Marvin urged them through the main room and into an adjacent one. He tripped on the doorway and banged his cast against the wall. "Ow!" He rubbed his arm. "Third time today." He ignored Daxter's poorly concealed laughter. "Here, I think this would be the best place for us to go."

Jak and Daxter rubbed their eyes. The room was well lit, a stark contrast from the rest of the Entertainment Archives. A few monitors and computer modules were built into the table and the walls. The place was sleek and clean, though the ceiling was covered in stubby stalactites. Marvin motioned them to sit, then got a good look at Jak. His face went pale. "Uh... uh..."

"What? Is there a Metal Head behind us?" Daxter peered over his shoulder.

"Uh... no..." Marvin cleared his throat. "Nothing." He glanced at Jak. "Eep."

Jak folded his arms. _I can't believe it. This guy seemed slightly more intelligent than those superstitious slummers._ "Got a problem?"

"No. Course not. Please, have a seat." He folded his hands nervously. Paper cuts ran along every finger. "Can I see it?"

Jak slid the trophy across the table. Marvin picked it up. "Hmm." He held it up to the light. "Holopicture. When were those used?" He muttered to himself for a few minutes.

Daxter tapped one foot on the table, activating a program. A Fine Distance Calculations screen came up. "Hey, cool!" Daxter lay down, typing numbers into the keyboard. "If I were sixty standards tall, and could lift fifty times my weight..."

Jak rolled his eyes. _If Marvin can find out who that guy is on the trophy, I'm going to start looking for him today. With the shortage, it should be easy to squeeze information out of people. I still have a bunch of Precursor orbs. That should get me a flask or two of water. Blackmail investment, if needs be-_

"Hey, Jak, look at this!" Daxter pointed at the screen. "I could throw a yakkow..." he peered at the screen, "all the way to the Waste Lands! Wow! See? Here's the settings. Wanna see how far _you_ could throw a yakkow?"

"Not really."

"Aww, c'mon. How tall are you?"

"Yeah, that one's a fun program," Marvin interrupted. "Check out the Marley file."

"Okay," Daxter scrolled down. "Heh. Subject: Marley, ex wife. Weight: unknown. Height: unknown. With velocity 15.023 Ss/sec she could be thrown by subject Marvin at least 2 Ss."

"Check out the Snuggles file next-"

"Hey guys?" Jak rubbed his forehead. "Trophy? Please?"

"Aww." Daxter closed the program and rolled into a more comfortable position.

"Right." Marvin pushed the keyboard into the table. "For this program I prefer to use the HoloProfit. It's a different kind of keyboard." A light shone beneath the table, illuminating its surface with hundreds of complex key signatures. "Okay, let's access the Main Frame..."

Jak watched, extremely bored, as Marvin flicked through the BOTAFEA site, the Entertainment Archives Index, and selected the Trophy and Award History Sub-Index. The HoloProfit occasionally threw a fit, its slivers of light dodging Marvin's fingers. Marvin cursed at it.

"Finally!" he said. "Here we are. Okay, I have to select the trophy model." He looked at the one on the table. "Top heavy holopicture with Precursor etching. Plaque. Cross with the following race..." He walked his fingertips across the HoloProfit. "Annual Men's 200 Standard Ring Challenge."

With a ding, the monitor displayed a list. Marvin scanned the names. "Okay, oh yeah, I remember him. It wouldn't be him, that's too recent. Oh yeah, I remember _that_ guy. He died last year. Too young to receive the trophy you have. Hmm... Erol. Definitely wouldn't be him..."

Jak strummed his fingers on the table, becoming increasingly anxious. "Well?"

Marvin shifted uncomfortably. He picked up the trophy and inspected the bottom of it. "There's a possibility it's not in the records because all the primary resources were missing. But I think this was won before the 200 Standard Ring Challenge became part of the Baron's jurisdiction."

"What do you mean?"

"This was won in a slummer race, off record."

"Oh." Jak's shoulders slumped. "Well, I guess that makes sense. It was found in DS 12B."

"Hmm..." Marvin leaned forward and typed faster. "I'll see if I can cross-link anything with Cracky's archives. Maybe there's a rule guide the speedracers used that I can extrapolate a date from. That, plus a holopicture scan, should be enough for the database. If this guy was a popular speedracer, we might find a picture cluster. Visual clues could get you the information you want."

"Uh huh," said Daxter. "You just say that again in smaller words now."

Marvin sighed, covering the sound of the stalactite above his head loosening. It fell. Just before the stubby point could hit its mark, Jak swiped it from midair.

"Hey," said Marvin, looking at him curiously. "Thanks."

"No problem." Jak tossed the offending mineral composite aside.

"As I was saying, if the guy on your trophy was popular, I might be able to find other holopictures of him in the database. Then, if I can't get any more information for you, at least you'll have a good idea of what he looked like."

"What's a speedracer?" asked Daxter.

"Before the Mar Memorial Stadium accepted the lower classes into the races, the slummers held their own. It was very dangerous," Marvin bit his tongue. "Ow." He poked the HoloProfit. "Those circuits were organized by several kingpins, none of whom are currently living. Speedracers made great adjustments to the zoomer, even though no upper class Designer will admit it."

Jak thought of Keira. "Most contributions go unappreciated."

Marvin snorted. "Yeah." He cracked his knuckles. "Okay, I think I got something. This will pull up any pictures, published or submitted directly to the database, that relate to your man there."

Five blurry pictures filled the screens. They had been scanned from yellowed and ripped newspaper articles. Jak squinted, recognizing one. "That's on the trophy," he said, pointing. "But it's bigger."

"It was probably cropped."

"What are these other ones?" asked Daxter.

"Let me filter them..." Marvin tapped at HoloProfit. The pictures sharpened somewhat. "Do you see any patterns?"

Each picture showed the man in a different position, having just shattered the final ring in a race. Jak could see that the man had used at least two different zoomers prior to the one he had used in the 200 Standard Ring Challenge. He never looked at the photographer, but rather seemed to be searching the faceless crowd for something. A few of the pictures had short, unintelligible captions.

"They all seem to be at races," said Jak.

"They all seem to be fuzzier than me," said Daxter, resting a fist under his chin.

"Yes, well... here's something interesting," said Marvin. He tapped at the keyboard. The pictures sharpened dramatically. "We've lost proximity detail, but look at the background." He pointed. "See her?"

"Yeah," said Jak. "Hey! She's in all the pictures!"

"That she is," confirmed Marvin. He turned towards Jak. "What can we extrapolate from that?"

"A girlfriend?" asked Daxter. He raised his eyebrows at the monitor. "She ain't bad looking. Maybe a little too skinny. Got a brush, sister?"

"And he's." Jak traced the young man's eye line with a finger. "Looking for her. At the end of all his races. She's the first one he looks for."

"How sweet," said Daxter, scratching dirt out from under his nails.

"I don't see anyone else in all the pictures," said Marvin. "Just to make sure, I'm having a scan done to determine if there are any other common faces."

"Can you make out the captions?" asked Jak.

"Maybe." Marvin tapped at the HoloProfit. He selected the pictures with captions and enlarged them. "This is going to do horrible things to the quality, but... oh, she's the only one with him in all the pictures. No family or related persons were found. Let's see now..."

Jak pressed his nose to the screen until his eyes watered. Between all the pictures he had a pretty good idea of what the man looked like. _Maybe Marvin can do some sort of composite picture, as if we were looking at him head on. Same with the woman._ He pulled his face away from the monitor a little. A pang of pity ate through his stomach, startling him. _She is skinny. I wonder... how did they live like that?_ In one of the pictures, she held the hand of a small person, too low to the ground to be seen. _A child, perhaps?_ "Hey, Marvin, do you think they're married?"

"Probably," said Marvin, "seeing as how I got one of the captions legible."

Jak strained forward, reading the Precursor script aloud. "_Champ spdrcer Drusus shatters fin ring in undgrnd race. Sry ladies, he's lkng at his love in crowd._"


	8. Fruito

"Can you print a picture?" asked Jak.

"Sure, I haven't done layout processing yet with this program, so it'll take a while for me to look it up."

"Thanks for your help."

"Yeah, well, we'll see if I can get this to work." Marvin fumbled with the Index for a few minutes. "Stupid thing." He frowned at the monitor. Then he tilted his head. "Uh oh." A jingling sounded from behind the door. "That can't be go-"

"HI!"

"AUGH! Jak! What _is_ that?!" Daxter hid behind his friend as a woman in a painfully patterned dress barged in. Her teeth, all pointing in different directions, each reflected a singular color from the lights suspended in the mass of hair swept up between her ears.

Jak blinked. _Unreal._

"Oooh! Hi! Did Marvin finally commit suicide? Are you new people? We have to check his desk for his note! I collect them, you know."

"No, Cracky, I'm right here." Marvin held up one hand meekly.

"Oh." Cracky covered her thinly veiled disappointment with a dentary-bone shattering grin. "Welcome back, Marvin-Barvin! I see you've risen from the dead particularly early this morning."

"Yes, thank you, Cracky." Marvin had long ago learned to filter out ninety eight percent of what she said. "We're very busy right now, can you go annoy Skeletor or somethi-"

"Whatcha doing?" Cracky leaned forward and squinted at the monitor.

"Trying to operate the phase-top printer-"

"You're doing it wrong," scolded Cracky. "Honestly. How are you going to commit a decent suicide for yourself now? You're not even in the right menu."

"I wanted to do a composite-"

"Yeah yeah."

"For both picture clusters. Filter the distortion-"

"Be quiet, squishy!" She clucked her tongue and tapped at the Holoprofit, humming like a zoomer. "Hrmmm hrrmmm ZOOM hrrmmmmssskkkkkkkzzzzz- eee! Watch out! Crashing zoomer! Hrmmm hrmmmm tap tap tappity-"

Daxter clamped his paws over his ears. "Shut it off, Marvin!"

"I can't," he said.

"-hrmmmm CRASH POW EXPLODEY!" Cracky shot her arms up into the air and waved them around. "Woo!" She touched a button with the very tip of one nail. Two pictures materialized on the tabletop. "I won!" She held them up. "I won!"

"Thanks Cracky," Marvin snatched them from her hands.

She turned abruptly and skipped off, singing the Havenian national anthem.

"That," Daxter said, shivering, "that was truly hideous."

_I am never going to accuse Keira of being weird again, even though she doesn't let different foods touch each other on her plate._

"Here you go," Marvin handed Jak the shiny pieces of paper. He glanced in the direction Cracky had fled. "Insane, yet curiously functional."

"Sounds familiar," said Daxter wryly. "Kinda like Ashelin's government."

"Thanks," said Jak. One picture was of Drusus, the other of the skinny woman. They were surprisingly clear headshots. He tucked them into a pocket.

"C'mon, Jak." Daxter hopped onto his shoulder. "This place is starting to freak me out."

"The exit's this way." Marvin turned and ran into a wall. "Owwww…"

"Marvin! You okay?"

"Yeah," he wheezed, waving one hand. "Go ahead. Straight through the main room, down the hall, and up the stairs. I'll be okay. Just gotta wait for my ears to stop bleeding."

"Are you sure-"

"Get out! While you still can!" Marvin pinched his nose with one hand and tilted his head back. "Go now, before she comes back!"

A familiar jingling sounded, followed by, "ooOOoooo! I smell _blood!_ Let's sing the Body Fluids Song! Blood, blood, blood, so nutritious and delicious, not like mucus, which is sticky and icky-"

"_Run, Jak!"_

And he did.

Panting, they leaned against the walls of the stadium. "Jak," Daxter said, "I don't ever, _ever_ wanna go down there again!"

Jak nodded, fanning his face with the pictures. They stood silently, trying not to breathe too deeply in the heat.

_Holy freakin' yakkow. That girl was the most messed up thing I've ever seen. I wonder if Erol did any experimentation on her…_

_Anyway._ He glanced at the pictures. _It's a start. I could ask Keira if she has any other connections. Slummers who know other slummers. It's not like they have a directory. _

"?"

Jak looked up. "Huh? What?"

"I said, 'let's get started,'" said Daxter.

"With what?"

Daxter rolled his eyes. "_With the ice sculpture carving_. C'mon Jak! We have pictures now. We can go around askin' people if they know anything about them."

Jak frowned. "I don't really want to do tha-"

"Baby." Daxter snatched a picture from Jak's hand and looked around. Finally, he spotted an obese man lumbering down the street. "Sir! Oh sir!" He jogged over to the man. "Excuse me, but have you seen this lady?"

The fat man looked around in all directions but down. Confused, he walked on.

"Hey! Down here, lardo!"

The man pushed his belly in with both hands. "Aahh! Demon street rat!" He turned and ran.

"He forgot to the protective signing," snickered Jak, drawing a smilie face in the air with one finger.

"Shuddup." Daxter tapped his chin. "What we have here is a failure to communicate. Due to gross height differences." He jumped onto Jak's shoulder. "GO!" He pointed valiantly down the empty road.

Jak just stood there.

"C'mon," said Daxter. "It's your family we're doing research on."

Jak sighed. He wiped his forehead. "Let's go to the market. There's probably slummers there." He set off, walking under the overhangs as much as possible.

A few minutes later he stood at the entrance of the bazaar. "There aren't many people here," he said. The place was almost bare; one fruit vendor and a few slummers milled around. Their complaints faded to whispers as Jak approached them.

The fruit vendor looked them up and down. "What you want, Darko?"

"Darko, eh?" said Daxter. "Ooh, they're getting creative now. Ahem." He jumped onto the man's wooden cart. "Listen up, uh, Fruito." The man folded his arms. "We're not looking for any trouble or any stupid superstitious crap nonsense. We just want to know if you know who this is." He held up the picture of the woman.

The man leaned down, squinted at the picture, and shoved Daxter off the cart. "Get away from my produce, rodent."

"Hey!" Daxter shot up, brushing dust off his fur. "What was that for?!" He waved one fist at the man.

"I don't like little orange weasels on my cart," said the man. He separated the fruits that had been closest to Daxter away from the others.

"He's not a weasel," said Jak. He tapped one hand on the counter. "He's my friend, and he asked you a simple question. In a mostly polite manner." Daxter nodded curtly.

The fruit vendor narrowed his eyes. "Listen, Darko," he said softly. "I don't want anything to do with you or your pet. I don't care what the governess sees in you. You're the one who let the Metal Heads in."

"_What?!"_ Daxter jumped onto Jak's shoulder. "Are you kidding me?! We're the ones that _killed_ the Metal Head _leader_ and _saved your sorry asses_!"

"Get out of here," said the man. "Nobody wants you!" He slammed the wooden shutters closed.

"I hope you suffocate in there!" spat Daxter. "Can you believe it, Jak? Why do they think we were _helping_ the Metal Heads? Did they _all_ miss the announcement Ashelin made where she said, and I quote, 'the lady-master and protector of Haven city, Daxter, and his trusty sidekick Jak-boy have slain Kor'?"

Jak wiped his forehead. "I dunno, Dax." _This is getting a little more than annoying. That's not the first time a slummer has accused me of helping the Metal Heads. Rumors spread like fire. What the hell happened that made all these people think I was a traitor to the city?_

"I bet they won't talk to us." Daxter pointed to the rest of the slummers in the bazaar, who were huddled in a corner waving their hands and chanting.

Jak shook his head. _I know if I scream, "you're all morons!" that won't make it any easier, but I'll feel better._ He stood still, sweating in the sun and trying hard not to think about how much he hated slummers.

"I have another idea," said Daxter. "Lets go back to the Ottsel. There's a bucket of ice there with my name on it."


	9. Lava Lamps

Jak flung himself onto the bed. _Holy hell, what a long day._ He groaned and mashed his face with his fingers, wishing a breeze would come in through the window. He was hot, thirsty, and tired.

He had forgotten to check the Sector center hologuide for the shower and water rations scheduling. The sinks poured forth a nasty mixture of mud and plant debris; Ashelin's promise of water regulations had indeed been carried through. He'd have to wait till tomorrow for fresh water.

Daxter was livid when they had returned to the Naughty Ottsel. The walk-in freezer and the refrigerated compartments had shorted out. "Of _course_," he'd said, shaking his fist. "Of _course_ the eco grid we dewired leads to the bar. Didn't the mainframe box in the Contamination Vault say 'To Port/South Town' on it? Ashelin had this planned from the start! She's the one who sent us down there!"

"Um, sweety," Tess had said. "If it was the wiring you'd worked with, the fridges would've gone off last night."

Daxter was insistent in Ashelin's sabotage of his bar. "She's pissed cuz I don't pay full taxes." He wiggled his eyebrows. "I've got loop holes out the yakkow, and I deserve it! After risking _my_ tail saving this stinkin' city."

So there had been no buckets of ice. No thirst quenching chilled drinks. Not even a room temperature glass of water with an umbrella in it. _Umbrellas, ha. The irony would've been too great for me, I think._ Jak sighed and swung his legs over the bed. "I miss that jet board," he muttered. He'd been forced to walk home from the Ottsel, as no zooming slummers had braved the afternoon scorch. He ignored the little voice in his head that reminded him it was his own fault the jet board was currently inoperative, and dumped the contents of his bag onto the floor.

A few orbs, the composite photos, some shriveled fruit, his ID, the old trophy, an assortment of papers and Brutter's polish fell out and rolled everywhere. Jak retrieved the polish from under the bed and hefted it in one hand. "That feels like forever ago," he said. He picked a sock off the floor and started polishing the old trophy.

The fumes soon drove him to the window. He ran the sock along the Precursor symbols, careful not to rub too hard. The sun burned off the last of the day's smog and sank, leaving a clear starry sky behind. The city lights flickered on and the usual bands of betting slummers met in the street.

Jak recognized a few of them- various members of the Underground he'd escorted on missions a few months back. Their collective stink rose up from the road. Jak grinned.

He opened the window as high as it would go and stuck his head out. "Don't you people ever bathe?"

Startled, they looked all around. Finally one of them looked up. "Blondie!"

"I can smell you from here, Jinx! Go home! It hasn't even been a whole day of water rationing and you'd make Krew proud!"

"Still so high and mighty, eh, pretty boy?" Jinx waved to him. His cigar light trailed in a half circle through the air. "Word on the street is you've got Ashelin increasin' taxes so you can import your special shampoo from beyond the wastelands!" His buddies snickered. "Gotta keep your locks'n curls perfumed'n shiny, don'tcha, Jak?"

Jak grinned. "Seems personal hygiene's relative to gun size in this city!" He stroked his chin. "If I recall, you use the 36X Shock Blaster model 2A, is that right?"

"Yeah." Jinx eyed him suspiciously.

"You're due for your annual bath, then. Go on! Get outta here! I wouldn't want Mrs. Jinx rolling in any more of your filth than absolutely necessary."

"For your information," said Jinx, "Mrs. Jinx gets paid to roll in whatever filth Mr. Jinx tells her to!"

"Touché." _There's not much I can say to that, is there? Too bad Dax isn't here. He's better at this witty sorta stuff._ "Take it easy, Jinx."

"Yeah yeah, don't let the bed bugs bite, sweetie. C'mon ladies! Let's go to the water slums where we're not heckled by women-folk."

Jak laughed. _There's nothing quite like trading insults with Jinx_. He yawned. The trophy in his hand was still streaked with tarnish. "Damn!" _I should've asked him if he knows anything about the old speedracers. Ah well. Next time._

He tossed the trophy, sock, and polish onto the floor and collapsed on the bed.

**TT**

"Jak, damn it, get up. This is the last time I'm playing alarm clock!"

Jak cracked an eye open. "Huh?"

"We were expecting you over an hour ago!" Torn's gravely voice came from somewhere on the floor.

Jak pulled himself to the edge of the bed and squinted down. His comm flashed spasmodically. He reached for it. "What for?"

Torn scowled. "Repeat testing, you moron."

"I feel fine."

"Half the KG's out sick. Get your ass down here for testing or I'll put you and the talking rat on Clogged Sewer Pipe Maintenance for a week. And trust me, in this heat, you _don't_ wanna be down there."

"You don't have authority over my assignments."

"I do now. Ashelin's out, too." Torn looked away for a second. "Only a handful of people who worked in DS 12B haven't been affected, and our staff needs to find out why. So get your disease-free inner elbows ready for a hell of a stabbing." He cut the transmission.

Jak rolled his eyes. "That's what I need in my life. More needles. 'Hey Jak, your body fluids seem pretty special. Mind if I take a tube or two?' 'Why no, help yourself. I don't need them. Especially in this heat, with no water to replace my fluid loss. Oh, and by the way, don't touch my blood with your bare hands. I'm the Dark Eco Freak, remember?'"

It wasn't really a great way to start the morning. Jak peeled his clothes off and scrounged around for a new set. _I can't imagine my blood being of any use to anyone. Daxter didn't get sick either. I bet it has something to do with our dark eco experiences…_ Still, there was a point to it all. _There's an upside to this heat. Even with half the KG out, it's too hot for anyone to start looting the place. I'm surprised about Ashelin, though. I mean, she was there, but… _Jak shrugged. _I guess I never thought she could actually get sick. But what the hell do I know._

_Wait… didn't Keira go and talk to Ashelin yesterday about something?_

Jak finished pulling his shirt on and punched his comm. "Keira? Keira!"

Her face was flushed. "Oh, hi Jak. What's up?" She was in the middle of making her bed. She smoothed her blue blanket straight.

"I, uh, are you okay?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Of course! Is something wrong?"

"No… I just got a call from Torn. Ashelin's sick, and I know you went to go see her yesterday so I just wanted… to make sure you were… okay." _Laaaaaaaaaame._

"Oh," Keira smiled. "Yeah, I'm fine. Poor Ashelin. I don't think you can get the disease by being near people with it. Which is good. I've heard it's pretty nasty." She wiped her forehead. "It is so hot out. Make sure you go to the Sector center and get water. You look kinda… pale."

Jak had a feeling he looked more dirty, sweaty and gross than pale, but Keira was being polite. "Yeah, I'll do that." There was an awkward pause. "Um… how's the jet board?"

Keira spun the comm and Jak could tell she was walking downstairs, from her apartment to the shop. "I can't do anything with it until they get the water running again. Plus, there are some things I've been working on that I want to put in it. Have you ever heard of dynamic angle chargers?"

"Uh… I've heard those words before."

Keira laughed. "I think I've found a way for you to take corners a little faster. It'll take me a while to figure out how to apply the concept to your board. Its surface-area-to-rider-mass ratio is smaller than a zoomer's, but the chargers I thought of last night might be able to be scaled down."

"Great." Jak smiled and nodded.

"But all those plans are on hold until I can get this dry pump sorted out. The city really needs a reliable source of water until the drought is over. I showed Ashelin my idea. She wants a prototype, and then to run it through the council and all that other junk. But I can't see why they wouldn't use it, so I'm starting the initial building steps this morning." Keira shrugged. "I've got a busy day ahead of me! Anything else- oh wait. The trophy! Did you talk to Marvin?"

"Yeah, I did. Interesting guy." Jak raised an eyebrow. _How the heck did you ever get to know him?_

"Marvin's great." She laughed. "If you ever have a bad day, just ask him how he's doing. Was he able to help you at all?"

"Yeah, I have some pictures. I've gotta figure out how to approach the slummers about them."

"Are they doing that weird signing at you?"

"Yeah." Jak sighed. _And worse, but I won't tell you that._

"They're just scared. Don't worry. I think things will work out for the best." Keira started pulling tools down from a shelf. "Give me a call later, Jak. Maybe we can meet up or something."

"Okay, yeah. That'd be great. Bye."

**TT**

The pretty medical technician wrinkled her nose when she saw Jak. His irritation jumped up a few notches. After enduring the trek to the Palace in the blazing sun and the infernal whispers of those slummers, he was in a foul mood. He stared back at her. _What do you want from me? They turned off the water so I can't shower. As if you smell like the summer breezes._ He wiped his sweaty hands on his tunic. At least the Palace had air conditioning.

"Right this way, sir," the technician said.

Jak glanced at Torn, seated at a table covered in papers. His eyes were bloodshot. Three medical people stood around him, screaming and frantically pointing at charts. He shot Jak a murderous look.

_Maybe giving blood isn't that bad…_

The technician led him into a cubical and put a stack of papers on the table.

"Do you exercise regularly?"

"Yep." _In fact, just a few months ago, I ran a marathon around the Metal Head leader_.

The technician scribbled. "Have you ever had any problems with digestion?"

Jak thought back to the first, and only, time Daxter had attempted to make dinner. _Who knew you could actually burn sauce? I'm guessing that's not what she means_. "No."

The questions were numerous and grew increasingly personal. Jak squirmed in his seat and tried to remember the nature and frequency of his bathroom visits.

"I don't see what this has to do with a respiratory disease," he snapped.

"We have to eliminate all the factors that would cause you to be…" She trailed off, eyes flickering over his face. "Factors that would make you resistant to the pathogen."

"I'd say that's obvious," spat Jak. He stretched his arm out. "We all know the one thing that makes me different. Hurry up and take what you want. I'm not sitting here anymore."

"Just doing my job," she said quietly. She folded the unfinished questionnaire. "I'm not authorized to take samples. Please wait." She turned to go.

"Get me some water."

She nodded and rushed out.

"Hmmph." Jak pushed his sleeve up and looked at the inside of his elbow. Scars littered the skin. He followed a few of them up his arm. They faded out near his shoulder.

"Real beauty marks." Slitter grinned and sat opposite Jak. He pulled a bottle of water from his bag and rolled it across the table.

Jak snatched it and chugged. He watched the man from the corner of his eye.

"Daresay I had a hand in a few of those," Slitter said. He pulled some glass tubes from the bag. "Honestly, we've got enough of your blood to raise a murder of metal heads. But I told Torn we needed more. I put it in my lava lamps."

Jak's stomach turned. _What?_

"They light up real pretty."

"Is that some sick joke?" Jak clenched a fist.

"I've got quite a collection. There's a lamp for every would-be dark warrior."

Jak shot out of his seat and snarled.

"Whoa, down boy," said Slitter. He glanced at the door. "Of course it's a joke. Sit down." He snapped some tubes together. "Yeah, a joke. Ashelin ordered the retests, don't bitch at me. Bitch at the bitch."

Jak grabbed his gun and pointed it at Slitter. "I don't like needles and I really don't like you. No more talking. Get this over with."

"I have to-"

"Shut up!"

Slitter glared at him. "Put the gun down," he said softly.

"I said shut up!"

Slitter fumed. He grabbed a pen and wrote; _have to take from new spot_.

As Jak pondered these words, Torn stuck his head in the door. "What the hell is going on?" His tired eyes narrowed at the gun Jak held.

"He's-"

"Slitter." Torn glared. "Should've known. Take your goddamn samples and then get your ass back in the lab. If you're still in the Palace in five minutes, your hide is mine. You remember our agreement, right? And Jak, the city doesn't have time for you to pull shit like this."

"Gun," said Slitter.

Jak lowered it. "Hurry the hell up."

"Play nicely or I swear to Mar." Torn disappeared from view. "You'll both be banished to the wastelands."

"As I was trying to say," Slitter stood, "I have to take a sample from a new place." He pushed Jak down into the chair and turned his face. "Right here."

"My _neck?_"

"There's an immunological organ there," said Slitter. "Big word, I know. Try not to think about it too much." He jabbed the needle in and wiggled it.

"Argh!" Jak grabbed Slitter's arm. Dark eco sparked from his fingernails.

"Heh, thought you'd like that." Slitter wrestled out of Jak's grip and shoved the needle into the bag. "That crazy bitch was right," he said, pulling at his ripped ear. "You're a super one-of-a-kind pain in the ass."

"I'm not the only one." Jak rubbed his sore neck.

Slitter glanced at the empty glass tubes. "Wouldn't it be funny if the cure to the disease was water?" He laughed.

"Yeah, real funny. And they call me the freak." Jak opened and shut his jaw.

"You heard Mr. Happy the Tattoo Man. I'm outta here." Slitter snapped his bag shut and sprinted out the door.

Jak heaved himself out of his chair. "This is the last time I'm coming here!" he shouted at the medical staff. Torn stood. Jak ignored him and stomped through the plastic lined hallways of the Palace.


End file.
